


Liberation or oppression

by domake



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Kinda Vigilantes, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Thieves, F/M, Reference to character death, reference to minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:32:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domake/pseuds/domake
Summary: The truth hurts immensely. Do we hope to change? For our current lives and our future? If this search of optimism falls, how do we continue?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmberWarrior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberWarrior/gifts).



> Author’s note: Funnily enough, I wrote this as a hand-in for English and I received full marks for it. So what do you know? A shipper’s strong feelings for their OTP really does go a long way. My passion fuelled this fan fiction. Not beta-read.

 

* * *

The winds bristled through the air with a rush of excitement, cooing loudly and brashly like a fierce lion. It ruffled through the hair of a young teen girl with black hair, mussing it to match the rouge and bad-boy hairstyle of her partner-in-crime. The teen was dressed in dark shades of inconspicuous clothes. It was obviously nothing like those bombastic outfits the stereotypical bandits and thieves wear on those cliche crime shows. She was masked though to conceal her identity like black ink blotting out her name and face from the law and its just do-gooders. She was thrumming with excitement. There was a soft tap-tap-tap of her foot against the roof of the warehouse (located in an industrial area filled with warehouses) Ladybug sat on. Her mouth curved into a small smile and her eyes brightened with anticipation. She could not wait to steal the contents in the safe in that warehouse. But. She needed that damn partner of her to grab it. It was just in her hand aching to acquire it. Where is that boy?!?

 

Suddenly, an almost inaudible thump of metal rattling against wood echoed behind her. She swiftly turned, body tense and taut like a coiled spring with her guns loaded and pointed at this intruder. The safe is too important to not deal with any potential threats in her opinion. The unknown individual placed her hands in in surprise (instinct and fear but he will never say that) and shock. He was masked and dressed in similar clothing as her. He spoke, startled into speech, “Woah. What is that for? Is that how you would treat a dear companion and partner of yours, bugaboo?” 

His low tenor and familiar voice caused the girl to recoil in shock and apprehension of what she done to her trusted partner (and friend).

 

She mumbled a response. “I-It’s not bugaboo, its Labybug. Respect the codename. Plus, who said we are partners?!!? You are the sidekick for  me because I am the brains of the operation.”

The response was quick and sly. “Ah. But I am the brain, bugaboo. I am an integral part. If I wasn’t here, you would not have the ample opportunity to steal this safe.”

 

This conversation was a familiar one. It was comfortable. It helped to release the tension of the girl. The boy’s eyes softened at the sight of her ease caused through their interaction - the bright green eyes caused through her excitement and anticipation. It was ruined by his next words. “After all, it contains the information regarding the conspirators that organised your mother’s and my father’s death.”

 

The warm situation dulled instantaneously like eating a picnic with your family under the Sun but hail fell suddenly on you. It was painful and sharp. it hurt to the core. The atmosphere turned cold and serious. Her eyes dulled with a fierce pain and intense hatred for those murderers. Her voice, monotone, ordered, “You know what to do.”

 

Hesitant, Chat Noir glanced at her. This was the final operation. The nail in the coffin for those horrendous criminals. Finally, their handwork shall end and they will be rewarded but their arrests will never be attributed to them - ‘the vigilantes’. However, what will happen to the ladybug who lost her driving purpose and never dealt with the pain that caused it? He shook his head to rid himself of these doubts and indecisions. There is no room for doubts - they have gone too far to fail at this stage. They have made too many sacrifices and lost too many heart-wrenching things.

 

He crouched down and observed their surroundings with a steel sharp, sadly well-practiced glance. He went through a mental checklist. Lumbering, clumsy bozos who is no match for them - check. Escape route if we mess up? - Check. Evil bad guy or archenemy with suspicious looks - check. Seriously, he had a scar, a tragic backstory and a penchant for monologging - who does that? He needed up laughing when he started his monologging with a dramatic entrance by banging the interrogation door open and nonchalantly walking in strutting like a peacock (such a flair for melodrama). Obviously, they escaped unscathed but not without any minor damage. After all, a little retribution goes a long way.

 

The boy vigilante grasped the lasso and hook that was attached to his tool belt that was coiled around his waist like a snake on his waist. It felt like a corset (he knew how it felt because of…a past unavoidable situation…which never happened by the way). He tensely waited for the opportune moment. He tossed the rope to latch the hook on the roof of the warehouse and swiftly checked it was stable, then swung as a prehistoric spy to the wall of the warehouse - that is, clumsily like an amateur. He gathered the attention of everyone in the area as he crash-landed in a location way off than he intended and _even better_ , into a bozo henchman. Oh, well. At least the dude is unconscious. Bad news, he is surrounded by a bunch of these numskulls. He is _so_ not getting out of here (and with those implicating files that would be so graciously liberated from that constantly moving safe) without a fight. He smiled. Well, he was after all ‘the sidekick that was only good for brawn, not brains’ so he might as well live up to the infamous reputation.

 

Ladybug watched as her partner fell with a loud, attention grabbing bang and then, winched (it was not out of concern at all) at the ensuring clamour from the fight. Luckily, stage one of her plans were fulfilled. Unfortunately, she wished her partner’s prevailing and encompassing bad luck would not succeed this time. She had tried giving him good luck charms before and it broke. Every time. She face palmed and sighed in resignation. 

 

She calmed her thoughts with a deep, bottomless breath. Ladybug took a few steps back and did energetic run up. Then, she flew through the air like a graceful bug, with her powerful trademark jump (that she was infamously known for) to enable her to land on the desired warehouse’s roof. Her instincts jumped into play to cause her to land soft as a fluffy pillow and silent like a library. She wanted to do a little celebratory dance (remembering all her attempts and subsequent failures of attempting a stunt like that one) but she must be serious and succeed unlike her mother and her partner’s father who were police law enforcement partners and saw something they should not have. She must, must take revenge. Her eyes burned with a black determination that scarred her hurt heart. She broke the sleek glass roof that she stood on with a little quick invention she made a few days ago and fell without hesitation into Tartarus.

 

...

Sharp, anticipating breaths puffed into the air as trembling hands searched through the files. The harsh eyes rapidly searched for the evidence they desperately needed. The hope present in them faded as she realised that this was a distraction - a fake and ruse. They became watery and teary as the sky above her house while she sat in her bedroom. Her cold and frigid bedroom that lack warmth, happiness and photos of family and friends. Marinette snapped her head up to gaze at her partner as she attempted to communicate…this world-crushing disappointment . Her partner searched her expression and gave a weak, empty smile to portray to her that he knew. He knew in his heart but he would rather not. He already wanted it to end and come to a satisfying conclusion. The safe of his heart remained locked and cold. He could not become attached to anyone, even her.


End file.
